


Feitan was a Race Car Driver

by Calicornia



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Bilbo Baggins Destroys the One Ring, Cowboy Harry, M/M, Pirate Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2020-06-25 20:49:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19753555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calicornia/pseuds/Calicornia
Summary: Emphasis on was.





	1. Bilbo Baggins has WHAT?

"I sure love surfing the web!" Shalnark exclaimed out loud to himself, his screen flashing horrifying images into his retinas. The bowlcut-ette sat unblinking, googling the Phantom Troupe's names for a bit of a good laugh to himself. Of course, he'd never use it for anything other than a bit of blackmail if he really needed something.

Shalnark giggled to himself over the things he saw. Phinks was a ballet dancer, Machi was a massage therapist, Hisoka was a clown, and Feitan...

"Was a race car driver..?"

Shalnark slipped out the words. His eyes were on the image that came up after a Google search of "Feitan Portor 1989", something that nowhere near resembled his quiet and depressive friend. An optimistic face in a red and white jumpsuit, complete with a helmet in matching colors. To be exact, his face was this emoji: 😊.

"Wow! I need to know what this is all about." Shalnark hit ctrl-P as soon as he could, gathering the evidence just in case Feitan denied the claims.

* * *

Feitan sat alone in his dirty room, a corpse to the side and a book in hand. Not just any book, his favorite book: Cowboy Harry Vs. Pirate Harry, an Autobiography by Neither Cowboy Harry or Pirate Harry. My Name is Vs.

"FEITAN HOLY FUCK!" Shalnark kicked open the door, his entire computer setup in hand. Several extension cords kept it plugged into the outlet.

"What do you want?" The sullen man was on the cusp of his favorite part. The part where Cowboy Harry and Pirate Harry put aside their differences to beat the living shit out of Spaceman Harry.

Shalnark turned the monitor

A sight Feitan never thought he'd see again was in front of his very eyes, his own smiling face. His race car. Eyes widening in shock, he could only manage a few words.

"Where you find this?"

"The internet!" Shalnark gleefully replied, a smile on his face.

"Okay."

"You aren't gonna tell me the story behind it?"

"Nope." Feitan turned back to his book, Cowboy Harry and Pirate Harry were at the DNA testing lab, getting their DNA tested. They were brothers.

"Man, what a bummer. Thanks anyways!" Shalnark walked out of the dirty room, unaware that Feitan's tears were now on the ground.

"Bilbo Baggins got cake..." Feitan's blurry vision didn't allow for easy reading. He closed his book, mounted his umbrella, and left the hideout.

* * *

Since Shalnark couldn't get a primary source, he figured that a secondary one was his best bet.

"Feitan's race car driving days? I know a lil bit 'bout 'em." Phinks yawned, a long day of being a jock does that to you.

"He's opened up to you?" Shalnark beamed, "He never struck me as the type!"

"Nah, it was the time I sucked his dick for some Feitan Testicle Apple Juice." Phinks waved his hand around to gesture his special dick sucking technique: The Phinks. "He kept on repeating the phrase "gnir eht yortsed dluoc oblib os ecar eht tsol i" over and over as he came and when I asked him what the fuck it was, he just told me "Why you think I have no birthday?""

"What does that have to do with race cars?"

"What DOESN'T it?" Phinks rolled his eyes.

Shalnark was even more confused than before, but that horse will be cowboyed when the bridge is crossed.


	2. The Phantom Hope

Feitan's boots pitter pattered in the rain. It was a sunny day, but water fell from the sky for the Anthropomorphic Metallica song that was Mr. Portor.

It was his secret nen ability: Rain Packer. The nen ability that came with a horrible, horrible price. Feitan passed Burger King, his former favorite restaurant. Emphasis on former.

Wrong move Feitan, imposing the restriction to never consume a whopper again. Your depression would increase tenfold, and end up a washed up former race car driver.

A necessary evil it was, especially after his last nen ability had failed him so. For as long as Feitan lived, his special technique, Race Pack-Car was a thing of the past.

* * *

*Clap* *Shlap* *Clap*

"Could ya keep it down!!? I'm trying to beat this stupid ass boss battle!" Phinks yelled across the hideout, "Speedrunning Nintendogs is even harder with you clapping your ass cheeks like that!"

"I apologize for being dummy thick, but this is important!" Shalnark rearranged the words Feitan had exclaimed while getting his professional gogurt removal. The buff blonde Rock Lee held up his paper at eye level.

"Gnir eht yortsed dluoc oblib os ecar eht tsol i..." Shalnark restrained his ass cheeks as much as he could, even he was perplexed trying to understand Feitan's native language. 

"Hmmm... Some the letters can be rearranged to spell "arteriolosclerosis"... Does Fei have hypertension or diabetes?"

"No, you idiot." Phinks clipped through Nintendogs wall, visible anger would be on his face if he had eyebrows, "He's from Meteor City."

"What about osteoradionecrosis? He does cover his face with that bandana a lot?" Shalnark rubbed his chin, the idea of bone death making him shudder. "Tracheobronchitis is another possibility! Maybe it made him quit race car driving?"

Phinks stood up, walked, and broke the TV, which was five feet away because Nintendogs is a DS game. Franklin shed a single tear, how will the poor guy get his Judge Judy fix now.

"Ask his shitty ex boyfriend, Bilbo Fuckin' Baggins." Phinks seethed with rage, not even Judge Judy could make him smile.

"Woah man." Franklin placed a hand on Phinks's shoulder, "Not much makes me happy in life. I'm over seven feet tall, I lost my wife to Xbox Live, I'm permanently disfigured, and I turned to crime to cope. Every day at 3 PM I turn on Judge Judy and watch her for at least an hour to keep myself from going insane. You know that man, Chrollo knows that, and sure as Hell even Feitan fuckin' knows that. The little man passes me and calls Judge Judy bad names under breath but he knows damn well I love her and would NEVER smash my TV in a fit of rage. I'm hurt."

"Selbsterhaltungstriebe!" Shalnark shouted, ignoring the Judge Judy strife. He finally found his erroneous answer.

* * *

Feitan walked into the Swamp Ass Bar, ass swampy as ever. He waited patiently for the bar tender, his en showing that he was, in fact, taking a fat shit and couldn't attend to him at the time.

"Oi Feitan!" After ten french minutes, he was out. His leopard print pants glistening in the rain from Rain Packer. "What brings you here?" The man began to pour a beer for his old friend.

"I have a meeting with Timmy Turner." Feitan swiftly grabbed the beer tossed towards him.

"The ten year old?" The man questioned.

"No. Timmy Turner the Forty Year Old Lesbian."


	3. Selbsterhaltungstriebe

"The fuck is a selbsterhaltungstriebe?" Phinks asked in the calmest voice he could after losing his chance at the Nintendogs Any% Speedrun World Record.

"It means self preservation in Hunter German." Shalnark explained as he hacked into Nintendogs for his disgruntled friend. "You do know what that means, right Phinks?"

Phinks rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm not a fuckin' idiot like Nobunaga."

"Nobunaga!" Nobunaga crawled from beneath the floorboards. He no longer exists.

"What do you think it means? In terms of Fei's race car driving past." Shalnark got back to business, and smirked internally. The nobunaga was no longer bunaga.

Phinks kicked back in his gamer chair: A stark white lawn chair with "GAMER GUCCI" written crudely in sharpie on the back support.

"Dunno for sure, but it may have something to do with his pissing problem."

Shalnark tilted his head in confusion.

"Do you not know?" Phinks chuckled out, "Fei'll probably tear out both of our jugulars if he knew that I told you this, so this'll be our dirty little secret. 'Kay?"

"Okay!" Shalnark nodded, his eyes wide with curiousity.

"Feitan pees less than three times a week, and less than 4,096 times in his whole life. It started off as a hunch, but the guy has taken the least average bathroom breaks out of the whole troupe. Sometimes I stay awake all night laying next to him, wondering how he can down so much alcohol without peeing. It's why I look so angry, I can't figure out where the missing fluids are."

"Uh Phinks, what does this have to do with rac-"

"You know who pees the most? Bonolenov. Guy's like a rushing race hors-"

*SHLAP SHLAP SHLAP*

Shalnark clapped his ass so hard Nobunaga began to exist once more, and Phinks went silent. The Nintendogs cartridge hit the ground.

"PHINKS!" *SHLAP* "WHAT!" *SHLAP* "DOES!" *SHLAP* "THIS!" *SHLAP* "HAVE!" *SHLAP* "TO!" *SHLAP* "DO!" *SHLAP* "WITH!" *SHLAP* "RACE" *SHLAP* "CAR!" *SHLAP* "DRIVING!?"

Phinks broke the silence.

"I have an idea."

* * *

Feitan gulped down his third bottle of vodka that evening, and the bartender, Guido Mista, had never been so perplexed. How was this man alive? Is he even a man?

The man himself, Feitan Portor, kept up his stoic demeanor. On the inside, however, he was torn to shreds. Forty Year Old Lesbian Timmy Turner had bailed once again. Cowboy Harry nor Pirate Harry could save his mood now.

"Oi." The bartender snapped his fingers infront of the obvious Slipknot fan. "Do you need the keys to the washroom?"

Feitan cringed.

"What normie fuck... Calls a bathroom a washroom? I'm above earthly urination..."

"Above... What now?" Mista blinked twice.

It was time to pound down the whole bottle of wine. Feitan popped the cork and drank it down to the prostate. If you didn't know already, wine bottles in this universe have prostates. No cocks, just prostates.

"I have most important piss of all mankind." Feitan wiped away tears. They weren't his. "Thank me when you look at morning sun."

He immediately passed out, his blood nearly 100% alcohol. Perfect conditions for what he was about to do. The spirit of Feitan Portor floated up to the sun, where the ritual would begin.

A big orange ball that nurtures all life, and a five foot tall man. Who would win?

Portor unzipped his fly.

* * *

"Race car driving isn't what you think it is." Phinks crossed his arms, "Viewers only see 10% of what happens."


	4. Hunter Facebook

"Can you elaborate?" Shalnark sheepishly chuckled, Phinks tip-toeing on his patience as if it was a tightrope. His anger being a safety net.

"Can't tell ya, it's just a feeling." Phinks shook his head, "Racin' cars is just too fuckin' boring! Something else has gotta be goin' on, man!"

Shalnark smiled, but his mind didn't. It was time for his last resort: messaging Feitan on Hunter Facebook.

Shalnark excused himself to his room, leaving the chad to his virtual animal raising game. A small echo of keys clacking filled Shalnark's little Shalnark lair. Upon logging into Hunter Facebook, the small red flash of a direct message notification plagued his sight.

It was an image from Feitan:

He was photoshopped into a minions meme telling Shalnark that he was both blocked and deleted. 

Hunter Facebook mom memes were normal for Feitan to post, but never to direct message. Especially if he was edited into them rather than a minion.

The boss may say no infighting, but this was war.

* * *

Feitan's soul returned to his body at exactly 4:96 AM, right where he left it in the Swamp Ass Bar. Both the Guido and the Mista slept hand in hand behind the counter. The empty bladdered man rubbed his eyes and yawned, time to go home without paying for his drinks.

"Time to go home without paying for your drinks, eh?"

Feitan looked to his left, and then his right where the sound was coming from. A short haired brunette woman wearing a pink dress and a blue coat sat, the supposed source of the sound. She smiled warmly.

"Forty Year Old Lesbian Timmy Turner." Feitan managed out, "You have the stuff, right?"

She smiled, removing a golden bejeweled ring from her purse. Its gem glimmered with blue and yellow speckles. A lapis lazuli. Forty slid it across the bar, Feitan swiftly catching it with his Feitan hands.

Upon closer inspection, Feitan saw the engraving on the inside.

"Bilbo Baggins" He read out loud, locking eyes with Forty Year Old Lesbian Timmy Turner. "It is legit. Thank you."

"Welcome." The woman stood, walking out of the bar without paying. Feitan watched her leave, unblinking, and then turned to watch both the Guido and the Mista sleep, unblinking. His thumb and finger twirled the ring in hand, knowing he'd have to wait until tomorrow to venture to the sun again.

"Grain packer." Feitan whispered, a plate of corncobs appearing on the bar. A tangy smell and taste to cheer him up. Yummy yummy corn recipes for everyone. Everyone but Bilbo Baggins.

He chowed down, tears welling in his eyes with each bite of corn.

* * *

"Damn." Chrollo closed his book, Cowboy Harry is Scary, "He must hate your guts if he sent you that."

"Aw man. Does this mean one of us has to leave the trope?" Shalnark sighed.

Chrollo scratched his chin, contemplating.

"He could go back to being a race car driver, but in his old age he can't do the splits as well."

"That's part of race car driving? Could you tell me more?" Shalnark smiled at his boss, the only other Phantom Troupe member with brain cells.

"Race car driving is an art, a competition of how much stuff one can do while pretending to drive a car." Chrollo stated, "Successfully boring your audience is another must. Unfortunately, disclosing the circumstances of Feitan's race car driving past would knock me down from ultra super duper best friend to super duper best friend. All I can tell you is that it's a touchy subject. There's a fucking fly in my room, but I can't find it."

"Oh! Thanks Chrollo!" Shalnark had this in the bag, one step closer to finding out the truth. He confidently walked out the hideout door, smile on face and erection in pants.

Race car tickets were to be his.


	5. I Forgot what I was going to do so I'm improvising

Today was the day of Feitan's birth, but he had given up the lifestyle of being born long ago. He was a force of nature, one that made sure to keep the urine levels of Earth's magnetic field steady. He had no concept of aging, and he wasn't about to start today.

Besides, everyone knows that birthdays are stored in the cake. And he didn't know any bakers.

He walked, kneading the ring in hand. Was he really preparing to do this? Feitan seldom questioned himself, because he's obviously the best. But something deep inside of him... Churned...

Nevertheless, it was too back to go hard now. It was too late to go back now. He had to do it, he had to at least try.

He has to restore his pride.

* * *

"Racecar tickets are sold out?" Shalnark laughed, "Okay but why?"

The receptionist and part time therapist, Killua, was not amused.

"Um. Because some people actually enjoy watching cars race and appreciate the sport baaaka." The stressed out teenager was angsting, 9 hunter dollars an hour for this shit?

"Haha! No they don't!" Shalnark began to walk away, time for plan B.

* * *

"Time for plan B?" Chrollo asked and he began to flip through his book, "Well, maybe I can help. I can cum enough cement to build a ladder..."

Phinks shuddered, the cum cement punishment was the worst of them all. 4 layers of rock solid cum, creating an absolutely safe capsule of semen.

"Sounds great!" Shalnark clapped, everyone did. Even Hermes clapped.

* * *

Feitan walked to the race car preperation station, balls full of cum. The helmet shook in his hands, pure cum ran through his cock. He was ready to face his rival, a rather snarky little hobbit with one large cock.

Samwise Gamjee.


End file.
